Ciarra Iksana
by Nostalgic Beauty
Summary: Ciarra is an orphan, thrown into Haven Prison, and entered into the Dark Warrior program one year before Jak shows up. A twist on the usual OC prison story. ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1 Prison

Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one, except Ciarra

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_The dark is generous. Its first gift is concealment: our true faces lie in the dark beneath our skins, our true hearts remain shadowed deeper still. But the greatest concealment lies not in protecting our secret truths, but in hiding from us the truths of others._

-Excerpt from Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith

Chapter One: Prison

Ciarra Iksana was not having a good day, no, scratch that, she was not having a good month. At least, she _thought_ it had been a month. It's so hard to tell time when you can't see anything.

You're probably confused by now. Well, the first thing you need to know about Ciarra is that she's incarcerated in the prison under the Barron's palace. Why you may ask, because the orphanage she was staying at went bankrupt, and not two hours after she was dumped on the street, she was taken to her own personal "Hell on Earth". From that moment on, she was enrolled to be a guinea pig for the infamous Dark Warrior program. She didn't believe the rumors whispered amongst the prisoners at first, but then her first day of 'testing' began.

Not two days after being imprisoned, Ciarra was dragged from her cell, to a bright, but ominous white room. After adjusting her eyes to the unaccustomed light, she spied a chair that would have looked innocent enough, if there weren't restraints to strap a person to it, or blood on the headrest. Seeing the blood made Ciarra start to panic. She never liked blood.

Of course it didn't matter whether Ciarra liked blood or not, she was forced down and strapped into the chair nonetheless. Starting to feel the panic overwhelm her, Ciarra's eyes darted frantically around, searching desperately for a distraction. Unfortunately, what she saw didn't reassure her. She observed three scientists fiddling with, what appeared to be a gun. They were whispering in low voices, but with adrenaline pumping through her body, Ciarra was able to hear snatches of their conversation.

"Could put a whole new light on the Project…"

"Which area do we target?"

"Arms…"

"Monitor strength…"

"Legs…"

"Speed…"

"Brain…"

After the last was mentioned, all of the scientists started to whisper excitedly, like five-year-olds over a shiny new toy. Ciarra couldn't make out anymore, but what she did hear gave her a feeling of dread. From what she could make out, these insane men were going to do something to her. Something she instinctively knew was not going to be pleasant. But, before she could work herself up even more, one of the scientists appeared out of nowhere and injected her with something that made her go limp. He smiled an obviously fake smiled at her and said; "We don't want you to hurt yourself, now do we?" Ciarra couldn't answer because a second scientist had tied a piece of cloth over her mouth. She didn't think she could have made her mouth and tongue work anyway, the combination of the drug and her own fear had made her immobile. Scientist number one and two turned to the third scientist, whom Ciarra saw was carrying the gun she had seen earlier. She watched in horror as scientist number three approached her, took a position directly in front of her, and aimed the gun right between her eyes.

"How long," scientist number three grunted.

Scientist number two shrugged, "How should I know; this is an experiment. Keep it on as long as you like."

Scientist one, nodded.

"Fine," Scientist three answered. Looked into Ciarra's eyes then grinned manically as he squeezed the trigger.

Agony.

Sheer agony was what Ciarra felt. No, it was worse, much worse. Hot, throbbing waves of pain traveled from the point the gun was shot, all the way down to her toes. In that moment all that existed was the pain, slowly extinguishing her existence. It was eternity, and yet no time at all before the scientist released the trigger, leaving her gasping through the material over her mouth.

Ciarra wasn't all there anymore, half unconscious, she heard the scientists talking, but couldn't make out what was being said. Finally, with one last attempt at consciousness, Ciarra surrendered to the darkness waiting to take her.

It is now one month after the first experiment. After that, she had been taken to the room almost every day, and each and every time scientist three, or Errol as she now knew, would hold the trigger longer and longer. Of course, by now, she knew exactly what these "experiments" were for. Apparently, the Barron had got it into his head to pump people full of dark eco so they would turn into these so-called "Dark Warriors". Unfortunately (for the Barron) every time he would pump dark eco into someone, they would go insane, die, mutate in horrible ways, or a combination of the three.

That's where Ciarra comes in. See, because of these failures, the Barron's scientists proposed injecting dark eco into a specific area rather than the whole body, like they had been doing. Apparently, targeting a specific area would make the area super enhanced and narrowing the space touched by eco would prevent all of the "side effects".

That was the idea at least. Ciarra doubted that the scientists experimenting on her had ever touched eco in their entire lives, because, if they had, they would know that no matter how small the area targeted, eco spreads through the entire body. She could feel it, the corruption flowing through her veins. She felt dirty, tainted, but that wasn't the worst of it. The worst took place two weeks before.

Ciarra had woken up from her most recent "session" only to find that it was pitch black in her cell. This was very unusual. The cells were always slightly lighted. Moving very slowly, Ciarra stood and attempted to make her way to a wall, only to trip and fall over, what turned out to be, her meager ration of food. After wolfing it down like the hungry little girl she was, Ciarra resumed cautiously making her way to the wall of her cell. Sighing in relief, she finally made it. She then proceeded to follow the wall until she felt the bars of her cell door. Peering out, Ciarra was met, once again by a frustrating wall of black. Now she knew something was wrong. Ciarra's torture sessions were always held at night, and she never slept the entire day. She should have been able to see sunlight coming in through cracks in the ceiling, but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was impossible, there was no way…unless…_No, it couldn't be._ But it was. She tried to deny it, but deep down inside, she realized the truth. They had taken her sight.

So, that brings this little story to Ciarra's contemplating her inordinately bad luck. Fortunately, however, Ciarra did occasionally have a spark of good fortune, for not long after waking up to that blackness, Ciarra had discovered that she had been wrong about her previous assumption. She wasn't blind; well, in a sense she was, but she could still 'see,' or more specifically, she could see eco.

While not as detailed or accurate as good-old-fashioned sight, Ciarra's new eyes did prove useful because she could See traces of eco in the people in the surrounding area, regardless of the iron walls of her cell, which she couldn't seem to See at all. At least, she couldn't See them until a couple of days ago.

After another 'session,' Ciarra had awoken to discover that the glow of the dark eco emanating from her body had not leeched away as time passed like it had before. It had stayed, bathing her surroundings in a purple glow and revealing the objects around her, whether or not they contained eco.

Since then the glow became stronger and weaker, depending of the strength of Ciarra's emotions. At the moment, she is impassive, if a little depressed, but when angry, her sight encompasses her entire cell and the hallway beyond.

Now though, Ciarra's vision was dwindled to the point where she could only perceive the floor she sat on and the wall she leaned against until she heard the synchronized marching that signaled the approach of the Crimson Guards. Calling upon the, now-familiar, anger she felt whenever in the guard's presence, Ciarra expanded her awareness and observed as the group stopped in front of her cell and her least favorite person in the world unlocked the door and stepped in.

Errol, the vilest person on the face of the Earth, including the Barron and the sick scientists that assist in the experiments; the scientists may have been doing their work because they believed what they were doing was right, but Errol was different. He actually enjoyed the screams of pain he ripped from Ciarra's throat, and he made sure he was always the one to pull the trigger.

This sadistic pleasure was practically rolling off of him as he came closer to the wall Ciarra was leaning against. She knew he wasn't there to drag her off to play guinea pig again because she had just been there a couple hours ago. She could still taste the metallic taste of her blood in her mouth where she had, once again, bitten through her tongue and feel the fresh dark eco crackling, just beneath her skin. Unless they were going to up the dosage of eco, Ciarra's stomach twisted at the thought. She didn't think she could survive more. Fortunately, and unfortunately, her fears were unfounded.

"Well, eco freak," drawled Errol, "it seems that the Barron is displeased with the results of our little experiments so far."

Ciarra could feel his smirk and growled under her breath as he continued.

"A blind little girl was not what the Barron wanted as a warrior it seems. So, with great sorrow," Ciarra could tell he wasn't sorry at all, "I regret to inform you that you will be terminated if you do not win in the arena."

With that, Errol turned on his heel and departed, allowing the guards waiting outside to enter, bind Ciarra's hands, and shove her after him.

Ciarra's head was reeling. The arena, she had heard mutterings about that place. Apparently, it was where hopeless cases were sent to kill each other off as entertainment for the guards. It made her sick just thinking about it. There was only one rule in the arena; kill or be killed. The winner was allowed to live on, but if you failed to kill the loser, Ciarra heard that they let Errol 'play' with both the winner and loser until one died. Ciarra shuddered as she recalled the sick happiness rolling off of Errol as he informed her of her fate. He must have been confident she would lose. With a surge of loathing, the likes of which she had never felt before, Ciarra vowed that she would not give Errol that satisfaction.

With new hatred to fuel her Sight, Ciarra observed the room she had been placed in while she had been contemplating. It was solid iron on all four sides, but with her Sight, Ciarra could make out the arena beyond one of the walls, and her opponent in a room similar to hers, on the opposite side.

Her opponent was colossal, maybe seven feet tall and seemed to be made of nothing but muscle. Ciarra's resolve started to crumble as the reality of her situation started to sink in. She was not a fighter. Oh sure, she got into the occasional tussle in the orphanage, but they had been playful fights over trivial things like snacks and toys. Ciarra didn't know how to fight seriously, she had never killed anyone before, and she certainly didn't know how she was going to defeat a seven-foot tall muscle man with her half-starved, five-foot form.

Before Ciarra could even begin to come up with a plan, a buzzer sounded and her mind went blank with terror as the wall between her and the arena slowly began to rise.

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Review please! Even if you absolutely hate it, I still want to know so I can improve my writing.


	2. Chapter 2 First Fight

Chapter Two: First Fight

As the wall rose between Ciarra and her opponent, the terror that she had tried to hold back broke through her defenses and overwhelmed her, and like a light switch her sight faltered and Ciarra was plunged into inky blackness.

'No,' she thought desperately, 'no, no, no, no, NO! I don't want to die; I don't want to die; I don't want to die…' like a mantra, Ciarra's panic-stricken mind repeated this over and over as she stumbled to the side, arms outstretched, blindly searching for a wall and too scared to feel mortified at the cruel laughter her actions evoked from the audience.

Just as Ciarra touched a wall of the arena with slight relief, she only had the small vibration of the ground under her feet as warning before her opponent landed their first blow. Pain lanced through her side and she felt herself fly through the air before connecting brutally to the metal floor and skidding until she crashed into the wall, headfirst with a sickening crack. Ciarra let out a pain-filled groan as she attempted to pick herself up, only to have her arms crumple beneath her. She groaned again, this time in despair. Her arms were broken. She was going to die.

Die, the thought pushed forth the rage that had been suppressed by fear and her surroundings suddenly snapped into focus along with the seven-foot giant, mid-air and about to crush Ciarra under his feet.

Time slowed, and with a clarity she hadn't felt in a long time, Ciarra let her instincts take over. Desperation overriding any pain she might have felt, Ciarra rolled out of the way of the massive form, and almost as if in a trance, focused her light into her hands and slammed her fists into the exposed back of her opponent. Silence resounded in the arena, except for Ciarra's heaving breathes as she Looked at her felled opponent. She waited several beats of the heart pounding in her throat, and when he continued to not move, the relief brought on a wave of pain that knocked her to her knees. Ciarra thought she heard angry voices arguing before she gladly gave into the soothing darkness encroaching on the edges of her vision.

. . .

Pain launched Ciarra out of the comforting folds of oblivion as she felt two people roughly jerking her two broken arms into shackles above her head. She was vaguely confused a she heard the two elves' footsteps receding.

Where was she?

This concept, Ciarra attempted to grasp and ponder, but was unable to hold onto a coherent thought long enough to examine it. Eventually her fuzzy mind concluded that she had never, in fact, been in this place before, but somehow it wasn't the unfamiliarity of her surrounding that was bothering her, not the stabbing pain from the broken arms keeping her weary body standing. No, it was something different, and yet the same, or was it the same and yet different? Slowly, but surely, her sluggish mind sloshed through the quagmire her thoughts had become and eventually came up with a muddy realization. She couldn't see, but no, she hadn't seen anything in a long time hadn't she? But, that wasn't right, she couldn't see, but she had been able to See, in a sense. Now though, Ciarra could not See at all. Yes! That was it!

Feeling proud of herself for her mental achievement, rather than terrified of the relevance of what she had just deduced, Ciarra gave up fighting the murkiness of her thoughts, and instead let her mind drift where it would. Some time later, it could have been a moment or hours, she did not know, the sound of metal clanging against metal and squeaky hinges interrupted the unusual silence pervading the area around her. Footsteps came forward and stopped directly in front of Ciarra and a familiar voice whispered malevolently in her ear.

"You surprised me, my little freak, and I HATE surprises. I knew I'd get to play with you, but I didn't know I'd get two toys instead of one. Now, since neither of you died in the arena like you were supposed to, you will both suffer until one of you dies. I lost my whole week's pay betting against you. You'll pay for making a fool of me!"

Two pairs of hands suddenly re-shackled Ciarra with her cheek pressed into the grimy wall. The first stroke of the whip came as a surprise, Ciarra's muddled mind didn't seem capable of keeping up with these new developments as they occurred, but she felt the pain, white-hot across her back, then the second and the third. They never blended together, each slash cut into her flesh more painful than the last and she was somehow incapable of retreating into herself to escape the whip's cruel bite. Somewhere between the twenty-eighth and the thirtieth strike, Ciarra had a moment of clarity and realized why her thoughts were so incoherent. They wanted her to suffer through this, and with that realization burning in her heart, she screamed.

Sorry for the short chapter, the next one will be longer. I promise!


	3. Chapter 3 The Angel

Chapter Three: The Angel

Ciarra once read that time was like water; it could move like a river or trickle by like a stream. Her time since her one and only tie in the arena was not so poetic; it moved more like sludge in a sewer, painfully slow and foul. Even now, Ciarra couldn't recall how it was she survived where muscle man died. Maybe she was made of stronger stuff (yeah right!), or maybe she had wounded him worse than she originally thought (much more likely). Either way, he had escaped the hellhole, and Ciarra was left to suffer on. That's how Ciarra thought about it, that's how she _had_ to think about it, or she would have gone mad long before from the guilt of all of the people she had killed. They were in a better place. They had to be.

It must have been quite some time since her first fight because in the intervening time she had been in many, many more; and each time she won. She had no choice. It wasn't her fault! It was either die and let Errol win (not an option), kill the opponent quick, or leave them to be tortured to death. There was no way Ciarra was going to die before she wrecked revenge upon that bastard Errol. If she were to die, she would make sure she took that monster with her. A random thought popped into her head and Ciarra grinned. It takes a monster to kill a monster, and despite her best efforts; a monster is what she was slowly becoming.

Ciarra grinned wryly as she lounged in her cell, making bright sparks jump between her fingers. Maybe she was already a monster. Frowning, she clenched her hand into a fist, feeling the sticky blood of her last opponent on her hand. The last opponent wasn't much of a challenge, he had been young and scared stiff with fright. Ciarra shuddered slightly as she recalled the thoughts that went through her head as she stalked toward her prey. How she had the sudden urge to make him suffer as she had suffered; to punish the poor, and probably innocent, boy for the wrongs that had been wrought on her; to punch a hole in his lungs and watch as he slowly drowned in his own blood. She had come close, too close, to becoming the monster Errol and the Barron wanted her to be; before the young elf gave a pitiful cry of terror that woke Ciarra from her bloodlust long enough for her to rip out the elf's throat, end his life as quickly and painlessly as possible, and end the match. The match ended, but it still bothered Ciarra, how close she had come to stepping over that line she had set for herself. No matter what happened, she would never enjoy another's pain. She would never become Errol.

Speaking of Errol, Ciarra was abruptly shaken from her thoughts as the sound of synchronized marching met her sensitive ears. Her head shot up and her eyes scanned her surroundings, skipping over the purple-tainted inner eco of the prisoners, and focusing on the cluster of green eco-ridden forms heading toward her cell door. That was one power that had manifested itself, the ability to See the colors of different types of eco. Green was the life-eco in all life, which meant the guards, while the prisoners' inner eco were tainted with the purple of dark eco.

Ciarra jumped to her feet and backed into a corner, her anger throwing Errol's features into relief as he strolled in, a broad grin on his face. Practically snarling as Errol came closer, Ciarra tried frantically to reign in her rage. She had already used a large portion of her inner eco in the last fight; and if Errol had come to take her to another, she had to conserve the eco she had left or she wouldn't be able to See, much less fight.

Errol stopped a few feet in front of Ciarra, still grinning, and Ciarra got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. This couldn't be good. Errol looked like Christmas had come early.

"Hello my little freak, well," he eyed Ciarra up and down, "not so little anymore."

A thrill of fear and disgust shot through Ciarra as she glared at Errol's insinuation. In the past, Ciarra had wondered why she had not suffered the same fate as the other women of the prison, and concluded that for some reason, Errol had been forbidden to touch her. That was the only explanation she could reason out, because Errol's moral compass was so skewed, she was positive he wouldn't have had any qualms with violating a kid. It seemed that now whatever was holding Errol back was gone as he came closer to Ciarra, reaching out with his left hand and stroking her cheek in a parody of affection. Ciarra shuddered in revulsion as her eyes snapped to the blue eco-powered taser in his right hand. One aggressive move from her and she'd wake up in Errol's torture room.

He must have seen the look on Ciarra's face because he grinned evilly before leaning in to whisper in her ear, "You're running the obstacle course today, little freak. I have money on you, so if you lose, you'll regret it." He pulled back to look in Ciarra's eyes, and must have seen the loathing there because he laughed harshly and snapped his fingers to signal the guards to drag Ciarra after him as he pulled away. Ciarra let them grab her arms, but opted to walk as she pondered these new developments. She wasn't too concerned about losing. She was fast, extremely fast, and she'd never lost a race. But one thing was for certain; if by some miracle, the other prisoner beat her, she'd rather die than let Errol violate her. Screams jerked Ciarra from her inner pledge as she and her escort stepped into the large room that housed the obstacle course.

The obstacle course was used to test the "experiments" to see how the eco injections affected their speed, strength, and reasoning. At least that was what it was_ supposed_ to be for. Ciarra thought it was just there for the guards' entertainment. Usually prisoners went through the obstacle course at least once before going to the arena. While the arena was where failed experiments were sent to die; the obstacle course was where successful experiments were "incented" to keep on living. Ciarra figured that her losing her sight labeled her as a failed experiment before she could make it to the obstacle course, but afterward the scientists became interested in her; and she was sometimes sent to "show off." She never lost. She made sure of it.

Another scream made Ciarra involuntarily widen the area of her Sight, and she immediately recoiled in disgust as she watched the whip, held in the grasp of a cackling guard, cut into the skinless back of the loser of the last race. Slightly tainted blood pooled around him, and saliva started accumulating in Ciarra's mouth as the sharp metallic-smelling blood wafted over to her. She tried to turn away in the steel-like grip her guards had on her arms, contradicting feelings of sadness, anger, and bloodlust ripping through her until the man finally passed out from pain; and the guards deposited Ciarra in the starting box. She stumbled and almost fell; two strong arms catching and steadying her.

She looked up in surprise and was almost blinded, again, by the intense light before her, not only light, but colors! Colors that Ciarra had not seen since her Sight had turned green and purple. Bright, sunny, yellow hair turned to a deep green as it neared his scalp, but it was the eyes that made Ciarra's knees buckle, slipping out of his grasp with silent tears streaming down her face. They were the color of the sky she had fantasized about, glowing just as the rest of him was, lighting up the entire room on his own. Even his clothes were colored! It was as if a precursor had come to free her from her hell; but no, after kneeling in awe of the light and colors she hadn't seen in so long, Ciarra began to look at the man himself and realized he was just a teen, probably her age, and new, brand new. He had stepped back, confusion, fear, and worry shinning in his blue eyes as they occasionally flickered around the metal cube. He had no taint to his inner-eco at all. Breathing in, Ciarra could even taste a faint trace of fresh air on him! Looking at this boy-of-light as he watched her warily, but did not take advantage of her moment of weakness, Ciarra knew he had not killed yet, probably hadn't even been to a "session" yet. He was pure, untainted.

Gaining mastery over herself, Ciarra wiped the tears from her face and resolved to herself that she would make sure her angel's light remained pure for just one day longer. She would lose the race. Ciarra didn't know how long she had kneeled there, gawking, but she needed to speak to him before the doors opened, before they had to return to the cruel care of the guards.

Pushing back the dread that pooled into her stomach as she remembered Errol's warning, Ciarra scrambled to her feet; recapturing the attention of the angel who had wandered to the wall, inspecting it for faults he may be able to use to break it down. Approaching him hesitantly, Ciarra came as close as she could before he tensed up, and she said in a whisper, "It's no use. The walls and door are solid metal." The hoarseness of her own voice surprised Ciarra for a moment, but then she couldn't recall the last time she had used her voice other than screaming.

He didn't reply, just blinked at her and she continued, pressed for time, "You're new so you probably don't know what's happening, so I'm going to tell you. This is a race. When the doors open, get through the obstacle course as fast as you can. Got it?" He nodded his head, his eyebrows crinkled in confusion. Ciarra sighed and tried to step closer, but he tensed again and she stayed put. "No matter what happens," she said, quietly, "don't stop running." The doors began to grind open and Ciarra used the remaining seconds to imprint the image of this angel-of-light into her mind. She probably wouldn't see him again.

When the doors finally ground open, Ciarra, seeing that the angel was too confused to start moving on his own, ran at him, shouting, "Go, go, go!" Startled, he turned and ran as fast as he could; and damn, that boy could run! He had the speed of a six-month-old prisoner contaminated by dark eco. Given a few weeks he definitely would have been a challenge, but given the amount of eco enhancing Ciarra's strength and speed, she was easily able to keep pace with the angel as they tackled the obstacles, side by side. Ciarra was impressed. The angel conquered each challenge with an uncanny ease. She caught a surprised look on his face and could tell he was just as impressed by her. Ciarra gave him a small smile in encouragement, the first smile she'd given anyone in a long time, and his answering smile took her breath away. She almost stumbled as his eyes lit up and the glow that seemed to permeate his entire being intensified. He really looked like an angel, and any doubts Ciarra may have had about throwing the race were immediately dispelled. In those moments she knew she would do anything for this angel.

The final stretch came up, and Ciarra stuck close to the angel until the very last second, imprinting his glowing form into her mind one last time, then with three feet left, she stopped abruptly, letting the angel cross the finish line.

Dead silence rang through the room as the spectators were stunned by the unexpected move. The angel, seeing that Ciarra was no longer beside him, turned to her, confusion once again showing on his features; but Ciarra was scanning the crowd until her eyes finally found Errol's dumbstruck ones. Figuring she was in for pain anyway, she gave Errol a triumphant grin, saying loudly into the silence, "He wins." Her voice was the trigger that set the crowd off, cries and curses were shouted from every mouth, but were not loud enough to mask Errol's cry of outrage. The next instant Ciarra was surrounded by tasers ushering her to the blood-covered wheel. Knowing that worse punishment awaited her if she resisted, Ciarra calmly walked over to the wheel and laid down on her stomach, not even registering the smell of blood as she fought, desperately to hide the apprehension coursing through her. Glancing up, Ciarra saw Errol pushing through the crowd with rage in his eyes; further searching, Ciarra finally caught the eyes of the angel. He was being forced out of the room by a guard, but was struggling, trying to remain in sight of Ciarra as comprehension, horror, and no small amount of guilt began to show on his face. Ciarra gave him a small smile, trying to convey that she didn't place any blame on him, but the guilt only gained more prominence on his face before the guards finally ganged up, and wrestled him away. Ciarra was glad. She didn't want him to see her punishment.

Ciarra watched as the angel's light was obscured by the green and purple lights of the guards and prisoners, and couldn't help but wonder, as the first lash cut into her back, whether her sacrifice had been worth it. Picturing the angel's face, lit up in a smile, she supposed it was.


End file.
